


the opposite of adults

by timequakes



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timequakes/pseuds/timequakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the first time hope saves two penalty shots in one game, she lets it slip that abby's support made a difference, and abby's not the kind of person to let that fly without comment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the opposite of adults

**Author's Note:**

> this is about that gifset. you know the one, probably. post-2007, right around the time these idiots are starting to tolerate each other again, walking on thin ice. they don't /like/ each other yet, but...they're getting there.

"I heard you."

Hope jumps, knocking her elbow against the locker, and turns to see Abby smirking at her. It's not a predatory thing, it's just the way Abby's face is most of the time, but it feels like it means something, because it's been three years since the spark between them lit up and blew them apart and this makes it feel like she's twenty five again and nothing's changed at all.

She smiles. She misses the reference. Abby can tell.

"I heard you, what you said in the interview."

There were plenty of interviews, and there were plenty of things said, but Hope thinks she might know what's being addressed. Still she turns coyly away, toweling her hair off.

"What did I say in the interview?"

Abby's talking to her like they're the only two around, and even though everyone else is bustling and busy and used to them interacting again it still feels like they're putting on a show. Hope raises an eyebrow when Abby approaches her.

"You said I helped you make that second PK save."

"I did not."

She says it flippantly but she's teasing, and she can see Abby flare a little before she realizes it's just a joke. Things have been testy between them but they're at the point where they both are old enough to think a little more before they outright explode at each other, and it's almost nice.

"Yeah you did. Maybe not in so many words, but I heard it."

"So what, did you come over here to gloat?"

Abby grins, full-out with both sides of her mouth, and it catches Hope so violently by surprise that she almost hits her arm again.

"Nope. I came to see if you wanted to get a drink after this."

"Just us?"

Abby laughs, like fully and completely and throwing her head back, and Hope can't tell whether she's offended by it or not.

-

She's only mildly and internally offended until two shots and half a beer later.

She stops at two shots because Abby will (and has on many occasions) drink her under the table just to see her plastered and she'd like to not be puking her guts out during their off day. Also, it's possible that she stops at two shots because she doesn't want to award Abby the satisfaction of staying sober longer. It's more fun to be more sober than Abby, anyway, because her usual 'loud and overbearing' becomes much funnier and less coherent and easier to like. Not that Abby is inherently hard to like, or anything, just that it's easier to like her when she's making a fool out of herself.

For Hope, anyway.

Abby gets drunk slower, but she drinks faster, and by the time Shannon and Christie are shooing them back to the hotel (a three block walk that they almost manage to take in the wrong direction) they're about even. Drunk enough to be uncoordinated but not drunk enough to stumble and sway around like idiots. Drunk enough to forget all the shit that still hasn't really been put to rest between them and drunk enough to think the whole thing is pretty damn funny.

Hope's room is on the first floor and Abby is on the second and somehow they can't figure out how the elevators work so it's Hope's room that they go to. Somehow, too, it doesn't surprise either of them that Abby follows Hope in. It might be a nostalgia thing, or a drunkenness thing, but it's a _thing_ , whatever it is, and Hope's not going to question it. 

It's really not more than ten seconds before Hope's back is against the wall and Abby's pinning her there, one hand on the wall and one hand unceremoniously cupping Hope's jaw. The kiss is sloppy and stupid and breathless, but Hope doesn't mind. She doesn't even mind the mix of beer and liquor on Abby's breath- not that she has a leg to stand on considering hers must taste the same. Abby was the first woman- or girl, really, when it happened- she was ever with like this, and there's something familiar about it even though so much has changed.

"Stop thinking," Abby mumbles against her lips, because of course she knows.

Years before Hope would have told Abby to shut up, but this time she just yanks Abby's shirt up over her head and drags her forward by the bra strap into another kiss. Abby lets that lie for a while before she decides Hope needs to be less clothed, and then she pulls uncoordinatedly at the front of Hope's v-neck. She doesn't get the tank top under it but she gets the v-neck off, tossing it to the ground. 

Abby drops her lips to Hope's shoulder- a favorite spot, always, not that Hope understands it- and so Hope reaches around behind Abby's back for her bra clasp. She's still wearing strictly sports bras, but she's upgraded- this one's fancy enough to have a clasp- and Hope's surprised by how long it takes her to get that clasp undone. 

"You're so drunk."

"Shut the fuck up, Abby."

Abby shuts the fuck up only once Hope's mouth is on hers again. This time it's a little more urgent; it's Abby's tongue just past her teeth and Hope pushing up off the wall into the warmth of Abby's torso. Once Abby's bra is gona Hope entertains herself with the skin she's uncovered, half because she knows Abby likes to think she's not sensitive and loves to prove her wrong and half because it's an impulse. Abby's impulse is to slide a hand along Hope's back and over her skirt until she gets a reaction.

Hope's first reaction to Abby's hand on her ass is always to be mildly amused. This time her secondary reaction is to duck under Abby's arm and head for her hotel bed, pulling the tank top over her head and kicking her shoes off as she goes. By the time she's sitting up against the headboard Abby's just starting to register it, and then she's hopping out of her jeans and peeling off her socks and stumbling over her own feet in her rush to get there.

Hope laughs at her, but the laugh is silenced a little when Abby finally crawls onto the bed, leaning up over her and bracing with one hand on the headboard just shy of Hope's head. Hope remembers things a little differently now. The old Abby would have gotten right to the point, but now it seems like Abby's learned to take her time a little, and she's already appreciating that before Abby reaches down and slides a hand around the back of her knee. 

"Did you forget how to do this?"

Hope's being an asshole, but she knows Abby doesn't mind. They're both a little too naked for that to hold any meaning, and she can see from Abby's growing smirk that she's planning to prove that she _hasn't_ forgotten. Abby's resting just to the side of Hope, her left knee pressed against Hope's left knee, and her hand slips from behind Hope's knee all the way up along her thigh and under the skirt. She lingers there like she's expecting Hope to do something, so Hope does something- she pushes Abby's hand away and wriggles out of the skirt entirely.

Abby settles with a leg between Hope's, and Hope's still sitting up when she reaches for the elastic of Abby's underwear. Abby's kisses are distracted. She's really not coordinated enough to do two things at once, and Hope knows it, so when she has to pull back to kick the underwear away Hope puts her plan into action.

Abby's on her knees, but she's not difficult to maneuver even being nearly six feet of muscle as she is. Mostly she's not hard to maneuver because she's pretty drunk, so when Hope repositions them so that Abby's straddling her there's not much of a struggle. It's a strange position for them, certainly, but it's clear that Abby's not thinking much of it, because when Hope suddenly breaks off the kiss and slides down off the headboard to settle between Abby's thighs the response she gets is a soft noise of surprise and then a muttered "fuck" when she makes contact.

When she glances up she does it just in time to see Abby's white-knuckled grip on the headboard and the furrow of her brow as she watches, like she's not completely sure what's going on. Hope's all focus after that, holding Abby in place with a hand on her thigh and another on her lower back, and Abby doesn't make it long before she drops her forehead to rest on the headboard and gives up trying not to move her hips. 

She's a hairtrigger drunk, which Hope remembers but Abby apparently does not, because she's so surprised when it's over that she pushes the headboard into the wall and almost crushes her fingers in the process. Hope doesn't even let up; she's not satisfied yet. Breathlessly, Abby tries to make a comeback.

"Stop."

Hope doesn't bother to. Abby doesn't mean it, because if she wanted to- if she meant it- she'd move herself.

"Hope, stop-"

But she won't, not until Abby reaches down and slides a hand into her hair, tugging gently. Then she lets up and looks up, and Abby peels her hands off the headboard and lowers herself to the mattress. She's hovering, not really touching, until she decides where she wants her hand to go. Hope waits- she knows it'll be worth it.

And it is. Abby fumbles with Hope's front-clasp bra (efficiency is of the utmost importance to her) and then her underwear, and Hope hooks a leg into the crook of Abby's knee and reaches up to dig her fingers into Abby's shoulders in anticipation of what she knows comes next. There's no more surprises. Abby's not about surprises, especially not like this; she has a one track mind, but there's something thrilling about being the _object_ of that single track. Something that makes Hope feel genuinely wanted for a while, even if she knows it's just a sexual thing. It's something.

She scrapes her nails over the back of Abby's neck when she feels the shaking start, pressing her head back into the pillow, and she knows there'll be a mark tomorrow but she doesn't particularly care about anything other than the hand between her legs. Abby still knows the right moment to crook her finger in, and she does and Hope doesn't even bother being quiet about the gasp and moan that follow.

It's not like Abby holds her or anything. It's just that Abby would be a jerk not to kind of wait until Hope's breathing somewhat regularly again before rolling away. The hand curled against Hope's hip means nothing, it's just a product of exhaustion and intimacy, and the same goes for the ghost of Abby's lips against her shoulder again. 

Hope breathes.

-

"Can you find your room, or are you too drunk to do it without an escort?"

"Fuck off."

"I hope you get lost."

-

Somewhere between the first and third floors, Abby gets lost.


End file.
